


all said and done

by muuny



Series: the thing is, we think we have time [3]
Category: Catfish: The TV Show
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Confessions, M/M, Miscommunication, Um what else, max talks about feelings, yey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-20 21:08:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11343207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muuny/pseuds/muuny
Summary: "Well what do you want me to say!?" Max strongly questions, swiftly rising to meet Nev's towering height. Eyes just as passionate, just as fiery."What youfeel!I want you to say what you feel! You can't just kiss me out of nowhere, make me promise to call you, and not say anything more, Max! 'Cause if that's the case then why am I evenhere?!"





	all said and done

**Author's Note:**

> _this_ has been sitting in my docs since i've written TWIWGS. with juggling a job, student teaching, and college work, i could never truly sit down and give this - or anything, really - time. i thought about this series over and over, and i really hate leaving things unfinished if i can help it, but since i'm done with school, here it is!

Max may have left Nev's home all cool, confident, and full of smiles for days. But when he gets behind the wheel of his car, Max is so shaken he can barely drive the thing worth a damn. He's never been slapped harder by reality.

They kissed.

Max kissed Nev.

It happened. It actually happened. He really kissed him.

...Damn?

His lips touched Nev's lips—well, they did more than "touch," but they made contact, again and again, and that they cannot take back. And _he_ was the initiator. The butterflies are gone, and inside, his organs are practically rearranging themselves on their own accord, his heart is palpitating ridiculously, his palms are eerily soggy and his fingers are twitching all their own over the steering wheel. It's _mad_ uncomfortable. He needs to pull himself together. He's not some teenage boy; he's too old to be responding like that was his first time getting hot and heavy with someone.

But it's Nev he's kissed.

It's _Nev_.

Max doesn't total his car on his way home, thank god. He makes it through the door and hurries to perch himself in the nearest seat available because he feels like he's aged at least fifty years and his knees have ground to sandpaper. His ordinary kitchen chair is chosen, and Max drops himself in it, one hand strangling a wad of his silver tresses and the other securing the back of the chair for balance. He's short of breath, and the air he does catch in his lungs of Swiss cheese does not stay there very long.

"God," Max mindlessly picks at his hair as he just as mindlessly asks, " _God_ , what did I just do."

The very, absolute last thing Max wants to do is hurt Nev in any way, shape, or form. He could not live another day on this Earth—in his skin—if he knew he was the reason for his best friend's newest heartache. He will not be responsible for a single tear in his eye, or on his cheek, nor will he be accountable for creating a single scar on the tissues of his sweet heart. He can't do it. He just can't. Nev is too precious to him, and they say you can't have too much of a good thing. Whoever "they" is, they're definitely on to something there.

In the grand scheme of things, it will be easier for the two of them to retain the statuses of co-hosts and nothing more henceforth. That's what the rational left side of Max's brain entertains. But is that what Max wants? His lips, his chest, his hands, his heart, all of which have touched Nev, vehemently beg to differ with rationality. The analytical left side of his brain did not kiss Nev, nor did it caress the soft small of his lower back, nor felt his heart thumping timidly into his own chest. Their moment in Nev's room—on Nev's wall, more like—was liberating. Joyous. Intense. Like Max was born solely to have that moment. Everything made sense in that small, spherical fragment in time.

But the absolute worst of the worst of what could happen after one kisses one's co-host, partner, and very close friend persistently plays out in his mind like scenes from the darkest voids of pessimism. What does this mean for him? For them? What's going to happen from here on out, if anything? What would blossom from this? A blessing? Curse? Will it destroy them, or bring them ever the more closer? These are the questions he should've entertained before getting hot and jumping Nev's long bones. But just like Max couldn't help himself in Nev's room, he clearly can't help but let his mind roam and explore the darkest corners of his mind.

He _is_ a Capricorn, after all.  


TTIWTWHT

  
Forget cloud nine. Nev is on cloud fucking _thirteen_ right now. He has all the energy to run throughout every room in his home at least twenty times. He does not choose to expend the boundless energy in that manner, no. Nev keeps it all bundled inside of the organ beating on the left side of his breast, laying in a feline curl on his bed. But his body's tingling, as if it's sensed the intrusion of a foreign entity, of another being.

Of Max. And it feels nice.

There is no force—imagined or physical—that can flatten the smile on Nev's mouth. He imagines his eyes are dreamily glazed over like doughnuts—the chocolate ones, of course. His lips are still pulsing with the phantom pressure of his best friend's lush mouth; he can still feel that cold but assuring hand prancing its way up underneath the cottony hem of his short shirt. And those lips sweetly suckling away at his. And that just as curious tongue barely breaking the seal of his warm mouth before Nev freaked and pushed him away. _Goodness_. And what about Max holding him like that? Like he was cradling gold?

Like he _was_ gold.

But Nev grounds himself for a second, waves the clouds out of his sight, and peels past the fluff to peer deeper into the situation.

What does this all mean? Does... he have feelings for him? Does Max like him? Does he love him? (What is this, middle school?) He did make a move and kiss him and all. And it was hot, yes, very, but Nev knows well enough that you can kiss someone nowadays and not mean a damn thing by it. Max isn't like that, though. He doesn't just kiss people for the hell of it. The stop-finding-excuses-just-to-touch-me Max? No, everything Max does has a purpose, a meaning behind it. Every cut of his eye, every touch, every cleverly crafted word that leaves the cynic's just as clever mouth alludes to something purposeful. Substantial. So for Max to just scoop him up, pin him, and kiss him like he's been starved for it, there's definitely something there.

Nev thinks—dares that it could be love. He hopes it's love. At least "like." Maybe that's wishful, naive thinking. It's that kind of thinking that's gotten him hurt, and yet it's what he still believes in.

Nev's nursed feelings for Max for an immeasurable length of time. It's funny how he can't pinpoint it, but it's quite hard to do when you've known someone—and have grown alongside them—for years and years. Nev doesn't know where he ends and Max begins, if that's understandable. He's divulged some of the most telling, intimate moments of his life with Max, and he can definitely say he's adding what happened nearly an hour ago to that substantial list. Once more, he wonders what it all means, and not only to himself, but to Max, too.

Max said he wanted Nev to call him after clearing his thoughts—nearly made a show out of making him promise—but he comes to the realization that calling wasn't going to be enough. At least, not for him. Especially now. Nev's tired of the phoning, texting, tweeting. He's tired of communicating through keyboards and behind five-inch screens. He hasn't seen Max in the flesh for weeks. He wants to _see_ him again, and be near to touch his skin, hear his words directly fall from his lips, and kind of _taste_ them again.

He wants to _see_ him.

TTIWTWHT  
  


"Whoa whoa, okay wait a minute here. You did _what?_ " crackles Zac from the other side of the line.

Max swallows so hard he's sure he's bruised his epiglottis, "Zac, I actually _kissed_ him. I kissed Nev. And it was so fast like I made the pancakes and we were eating and he was angry and I chased him and we ended up in his room and I grabbed him and we kissed. We _kissed_ , Zac." _And I'm scared_ , he wanted to add, but again, Capricorn here.

"I'm comin' over," Zac resolutely decided. Max sighs. He really doesn't want company right now and he really just wants his space to think things over.

"Zac, man, I really d—"

"—Be there in thirty."

A chime lets Max know Zac hung up and that Zac is definitely going to be there in thirty whether he likes it or not. He sighs, but the jig is up. He's gotta face this head on, whether he wants to or not. Zac will surely make him stew in his feelings, something that Max has definitely been adverse to since time began probably, but even he knows that feelings just don't go away. He knows that well enough, practically having a PhD in pining with a specialty in Nev Schulman. Feelings are versatile. You can do a lot with feelings. You can smother 'em, bottle 'em up, slice and dice 'em, season and sauté 'em, lay 'em out in an attractive arrangement and present 'em with an entirely different name, but the feelings are still there. No matter how you dress—or cook?—them up. They don't go anywhere unless you confront them.

Might as well get his game face on.

About twenty-seven minutes later, Max's solitude - which includes his silent brooding whilst slumping over in his kitchen chair - is interrupted by a ring of the doorbell followed by four or five firm knocks. He answers the door and welcomes the actor inside. Max returns to his chair with a louder than intended huff. Zac takes a seat beside him, sipping out of a water bottle as his bright eyes assessed the scene.

Zac enters, "Wow. It's pretty... _dark_ in here."

"Yeah? Well, I did hurry and head over to Nev's this morning for breakfast. I didn't really think about opening the blinds."

"I can open 'em for you."

"Nah. I've got kind of a headache. The sun'll just make it worse," Max lies, "thanks, though." He really likes the underwater effect zero sunlight creates in his domain. It's calming. Zac wouldn't understand. He'd probably poke fun of him for sitting in the dark all alone or somethin'.

Zac smiles at the distressed director.

"Well, well. You finally did it. Wasn't expecting a kiss, though."

" _Heh_. Let me tell you, neither was I," and with that, Max pretty much tells him just about everything, shying away from some personal bits.

"Wow," Zac says softly at the end, as if he, too, is just coming to grips with this. Max absently rubs the stubble of his jaw in sort of an "I see" fashion. Kind of like he's beginning to come to terms with it all. "It" being the inevitable truth.

"Yep. 'Wow.'"

"Okay, so all _that_ definitely happened," Zac lifts his arms in question, "what's the game plan now?"

"Truthfully, I don't really know."

"What do you mean you 'don't know?'"

"I mean just that. I literally don't know, Zac. I didn't plan to kiss him. It was impulsive. It just happened," Max offers with a few jerky gestures.

"No. No, no," Zac raises a finger, "so you're sayin' you're just gonna march into his house, kiss him, retreat, and hole yourself up in your bat cave indefinitely? That's not gonna work. You're going to have to face him, Bruce Wayne. I'd suggest you start planning something. An explanation at the very least."

"What do you think I've been doing all this time? Brooding in the dark?"

Zac actually chuckles, " _Yes?_ " and clasps Max's shoulder in comfort, _"_ Look, I was quite literally with you in the beginning of all this. I just want to see this whole thing to the end that the two of you deserve."

Max blinks, starting to marinate on that last word.

And then the doorbell rings.

Their necks collectively snap as they whisk their attention to the door. They take turns glancing at the door, then to each other for a little while. No one budges. With the sunless atmosphere that is Max's home, it easily becomes a cliché scene snatched directly from a horror film.

  
_moments ago, outside max's home..._

 

Nev's car creeps up to his friend's house. He spots another car in the driveway adjacent to Max's, but it's not one he recognizes. Is it someone from the crew? Damn, maybe he should've called before he came to see if Max was going to be free. Well, he's here now. His heart's beating like hell. He feels like it's prom night and he's here to pick up his date or somethin'. It's too late to back out.

Nev approaches the door. He swallows, mumbles a little prayer to whatever god'll listen, knocks, and waits.

The door creaks sooner than he's anticipating, as if someone was waiting by the door. Or maybe he's imagining things. The knob squeaks, and...

"Oh," Nev peeps.

It's Zac Efron.

It's freaking Zac Efron.

"Nev! S'nice seein' you again!" Zac brightly greets, reining the other man in for a slap hug, "Speak of the devil and he shall appear, huh?"

"Yeah," Nev replies, sounding oh so pleased to see him _and_ be referred to as the devil, "likewise."

Max suddenly appears under the doorway next to Zac, evidently vexed.

"What's up, Nev? I-I thought you were gonna call?"

"Well I _was_ , but I kind of wanted to see you, you know, in person, to talk," he steals a look from Zac, "but you've got company, so I guess I'll come back another time."

"What?" both Max and Zac repeat.

With the swiftness of his long legs, Nev makes the quickest beeline to his car. Max is quick to follow, but comes up short since Nev practically throws himself inside. Max knocks firmly on the glass window as Nev grips his steering wheel with one hand, the other fumbling in his pockets for his keys. Not _this_ again.

"Nev, no. Get out o' the car," Max demands. And Nev does not move. He does not bat a lash.

He definitely does not leave the car. Why must everything be a challenge with this man?

"Nev. Get out of the car, or I'll pry you from it myself."

Nev wets his lips carefully. On the count of four, the car door _clicks_ , and he slowly exits the vehicle. They come face to face. The defiance Max expects to see on his visage, is, frankly, not there. Instead he sees confusion, a bit of fear, poorly masked hurt, and an ember of desire, its flames flickering in the pits of his soulful pupils. Max swallows and takes a step.

"I need you _here_. With _me_. I— _we_ need to talk. Right?" he whispers into the foot of space between them.

"Yeah," Nev murmurs in reply, soft, hooded eyes zoned to his friend's lips.

In invitation, Max extends his right arm towards the open door of his home. His other arm tentatively rests on the small of Nev's back, quite in the same fashion it had been about less than an hour ago.

"Come inside?"

Max does not mean for it to come out as a question, but Nev nods. However, he does not move immediately. He spares a few seconds to search his partner's eyes. Max takes note of this. What he's seeking the latter isn't entirely sure, but it has that unnerving effect Max always feels when Nev—or even anyone—analyzes him with such scrutiny. Max kind of gives Zac a look that the latter reads all too well, and Zac gratefully takes the plea to leave them be, offering him a thumbs up.

Together, the duo enter the home. Nev heads for the loveseat in the living room directly across the fireless, brick hearth. Max takes a different route, moseying into the kitchen where he'd previously been lounging.

In other words, stalling.

"You want some water or anything?" he offers.

"No, 'm fine, thanks."                   

"You sure?"

"I'm sure."

Nev just wants to get straight to it. Well, they've dodged this elephant long enough, and it's not going anywhere. It hasn't for years.

With a smack of the lips, Max makes his way over to the loveseat. While Nev sits somewhat square in the middle, Max deposits himself near the armrest of the sofa, leaving a cold, obvious gap to splice them apart.

 _That_ , and silence.

But not for long.

Nev has a big mouth.

"If this is what it's gonna be like, then I don't want to do this, Max."

Max's brows arch semi-dramatically.

"What?"

Nev sprightly gestures to the obvious couch space between them.

" _This_. I don't want it—us—to be like _this_ ," he emphasizes with frustration he doesn't even try to hide.

Max sighs. He's never been one to really talk about his feelings. It's never really been his thing, or something that he's enjoyed doing. Hell, who does, honestly. He's always seen that level of vulnerability and exposure extremely unnecessary, and frankly frightening. Max would much rather do the exposing. It's safer. Who doesn't like to feel safe?

"Nev—" he begins. And it's that _tone_. It's that tone he resorts to when he's about to make some half-assed excuse and Nev cuts him right off with a pointed finger.

"—No. Don't you _dare_ , Max. Don't you dare say another word."

"How do you even know what I'm gonna say?"

Nev actually stands to firmly accuse the man, "Because I know you, Max. And you were just about to give me a load of bullshit."

"Where are you even _getting_ this from?"

"Doesn't matter. But let's talk about what really matters: _You_ kissed _me_ , Max. You actually kissed _me_ and you're sitting on the opposite of this goddamn couch like I have the fucking bubonic plague. Something's not adding up here."

"Well what do you want me to say!?" Max strongly questions, swiftly rising to meet Nev's towering height. Eyes just as passionate, just as fiery.

"What you _feel!_ I want you to say what you feel! You can't just kiss me out of nowhere, make me promise to call you, and not say anything more, Max! 'Cause if that's the case then why am I even _here?!_ "

Max blinks. Point made.

Nev flops to his seat and stares at a brick in the hearth. That unsettling silence trickles back in again.

"I've always... I've always felt like getting you to open up to me—to truly open up—was like trying to get blood from a turnip. You _can't_. I've felt like you've always given me some excuse, tale, facade—some _mask_ , and used it to hide away your true thoughts and feelings about anything. _Everything_. And honestly it hurts me, Max. 'Cause I'm supposed to be your friend—one of your good friends—and it hurts me to know that you don't feel safe enough or trust me enough to confide in me."

And damn if Max didn't feel like a shit friend before, he is surely feeling like one now. Max can only hang his head as each and every passion-infused word that jumps from his friend's lips digs a deeper wound into his scalp. He pinches the thin skin separating his brows.

"I feel like I know you, and at the same time I don't. And I've known you for years, Max. I'm not asking you to tell me everything. I'm just. I just want you to feel like you can be open with me. That you can open up to me. Maybe sit down like this and you tell me what's on your mind sometimes, I don't know. Sorry if I'm not making any se—"

"No, you make perfect sense, Nev."

Nev peers to his friend, habitually to his lips first, responding with a careful and misty, "Yeah?"

Max knows he's about to sound like a chum, a sap, sucker, take your pick, but this is truly how he feels for this wonderful human next to him. Nev suddenly guides his vision to his eyes; Max feels his gaze moving in his soul and he hates it. He's always hated that sensation. Being read, analyzed, _exposed_. It's a breach to his security, but this is his _friend_.

"I know what you're getting at. I completely understand, and, this conversation is a conversation I've had with myself many times. It's safe to say I haven't really, completely figured out my issues, or really addressed them, and that's my fault. But yeah, we're friends. And we've been friends for a minute. A long minute. Um. I didn't completely realize you felt this way until it was brought to my attention. I'm just not really used to sharing so much about my feelings with anyone openly. But firstly, I just wanted to tell you something you don't hear too often from me: I deeply appreciate you and your friendship. I love all that you do for others, and for yourself. You're super gentle, and naturally compassionate, and just about everything that I truly have to honestly force myself to be at times. You're... _you_ , and I admire you for being you, and truly appreciate you. I... I wanted you to hear that, 'cause I know I don't say it enough. And we haven't been on the best of terms lately, which is kind of a nice segway for this, I guess.

You say you want me to open up to you more, and after what's happened between us today, _you're right_. You definitely deserve answers from me, so. Gosh. Um. _So_ , long story short, one of my greatest fears that I've come to realize these past couple o' days, is living out this life without you beside me. And I see now that it's that fear that's kind of making it a reality lately. I can be cynical, an immovable realist—and you know all of this—and I'm not into the whole talking about my feelings thing, but that doesn't mean that I don't feel anything. I actually feel a lot. Ha, actually sometimes I think I feel too much. And..." Max slightly hangs his head with a sigh, "and that's the problem."

Let's call it what it really is. It's love. Max _loves_ Nev. But he fears his love for Nev will scare him away when it's all said and done. Love is more important to Max than he lets on; that's why he's so iffy of it. It's scary, loving someone with such ardent passion. It holds a controlling element over you, and Max finds solace in being in control. With relationships, eventually someone gets hurt, and that someone's usually Max. Every little thing gets to him; he overthinks and overrationalizes and talks himself out of everything when he doesn't see a clear ending. He feels too much, he does.

He feels _too much_.

"What..." Nev softly begins, coaxingly stroking the knuckle of Max's thumb with the pad of his own, "what do you mean by that?"

Oh _great_. Max looks away again, shrugging, wishing he could summon the confidence he used to fasten Nev to the wall hours ago. There's nothing more frightening than being emotionally stripped bare. But Nev's hand, his stroking thumb... He's letting him know that he's there. That he's not going anywhere. Hopefully.

"I-I guess you can say I'm. God, this sounds lame, um, _sensitive?_ _Maybe?_ I just—I care a lot about things, about people, _you_ , of course. I never let it show, though. I did once, and boy that didn't turn out so great, so I stopped really... fully _expressing_ myself and how I felt—how I _really_ felt—to others, 'cause really, who cares? I keep most of my emotions and feelings to myself, but I do feel a great amount. I'm not sure it's normal. Especially with you, Nev, 'cause... 'cause I do care a lot for you. I _feel_ a lot for you. I always have.  And it's too much an'... I don't wanna hurt you. You really have to understand, I don't want to _hurt_ you, Nev. I don't... I don't want to be the one to _hurt_ you just because I can't get my shit figured out." He's struggling just to get _this_ out, but he deserves to know.

Max's seen Nev hurt. He's seen what it does to him. How it changes him, thrusts him into this miserable state of mind. What he becomes; it isn't Nev anymore. Max doesn't want to ever see him in that position—in that skin—ever, _ever_ again.

"But why do you get to make that decision for me?" Nev breathes while Max keeps silent, "An' what do you mean you're 'too much?' You're enough for me, Max."

"And you're enough for me," Max whispers to himself, petting Nev's fingers, admiring the strong hand cradled sweetly in his palm. He has such beautiful hands. _Where's that camera..._

"Max, look at me."

A brief puff of air, and Max's gaze shifts to his partner's. Nev leans into him.

"I mean it. You're enough. You're enough for me. You've _always_ been enough for me. You don't have to hide anything, or lessen yourself for _anything_ or _anyone_. That includes me. I... I want to know all that I can about you, Max. The pretty and the ugly."

"Well there's a lot of ugly, just to let you know."

And Max is telling him the God honest truth. There are days when the sun's out and not a cloud is in the sky and Max will just feel like utter _shit_. And for no damn reason. There are days on set where Max really doesn't want to be there. Or even the days when he and Nev aren't on the same page—and those are oftentimes the days when Nev tries to figure out what's wrong with Max and Max tells him to mind his own business and it just ruins both of their moods—which just ruins everything. He's moody. The glass is always half empty if not three-fourths. Sometimes he just wants to be alone away from work and cameras and Nev and everyone and brood in peace. He's all over the place; not even _he_ knows how he's going to feel the next day. Call it a hormone imbalance, what have you, but it's Max.

Nev shouldn't have to put up with someone so volatile.

"I've stuck it out with you for this long. I'm sorry, but I'm not going anywhere. I don't care about 'the ugly.' You know I won't judge you. Is that what you're afraid of? Me judging you?"

"...I wouldn't say 'afraid.'"

"But am I right?"

"...YeahsureIguess," Max fluidly admits, evidently flustered. This side of him is what Nev likes to see. It makes him smile to see this open, unguarded behavior from his friend. So much so, that he leans into him.

"You're adorable, Max."

"M'not adorable."

"But you are."

"Whatever."

They tenderly squeeze one another's hands as a sweet air of silence shelters them. Nev rests his head on Max's shoulder, just like he would do had they been on a seven-hour long plane ride. Except this time, Max's right arm comes up and over, settling on the tops of Nev's shoulders, fingers twinning with Nev's as he holds the latter's right hand. Nev's left side just kind of melts naturally into Max's right, head kindly resting on his sturdy shoulder, and Max just kind of lets him. And it feels right. Max doesn't know why the hell he's been fighting this for so long. He feels so at peace now. He could almost go to sleep like this.

"So," Nev speaks up. Max opens his eyes. _When_ he closed them is the real question.

"So?"

"You were talking about me with Zac weren't you? Before I got here?"

"Yeah, and?"

Nev lifts his head to peer into his friend's(?) soul, eyes narrowed to slits.

"What were you talking about?"

"You really wanna know?" teases Max. Nev's fun to tease.

"I asked, didn't I?"

"We didn't talk long. We literally talked about what I was going to do after I kissed you. Then you showed up. I'll have you know that there was no plan past 'Mission: Breakfast at Nev's.'"

"Really? Max didn't have a plan? That doesn't sound like you."

An equally attractive and sheepish side smile pops onto Max's lips.

"Perhaps, but... S'not every day you kiss your co-host," Max clips his chin between his thumb and index finger, "Right?"

"True, but I'm happy you did," and Nev inches his face closer, "and I really want you to kiss me again."

Max actually blushes. Too bad Nev can't see it due to the darkness.

"Wow, that was sudden."

"Just trying to get straight to the point."

"You had to ask?"

"I know how you like boundaries, Max."

"Yet you're literally up under me all the time."

"Yet you love it." And he does. Then, Nev's lashes take a sinful dip, followed by his gaze. He dreamily proposes to Max with dangerous husk in the dark, " _So you gonna kiss me or what?_ "

Max peers down to where he would've met Nev's eyes, but for the umpteenth time that day, Nev's murky pupils are preoccupied with the state of Max's plush lips. The latter hears him swallow, sharp Adam's apple bobbing. It's a strange enticement, one that has Max immediately interested. So he leans in, and apparently so fast that the tips of their noses share a kiss first. It rises a couple giggles from the pair, but the air thickens once more, and Max's pursed lips sail sweetly to Nev's, holding the kiss there. That very same surge of warmth he felt the first time returns, scorching his veins as it travels throughout every canal and circuit of his being. His heart actually leaps. Nev closes his eyes and just relishes in the feel of its weight. Because it's fact. It's confirmation. There _is_ something between them, something that feels a lot like...

_Like..._

Max releases the tight grip on Nev's mouth with a moist smack. The pair become lost in the hypnotic onyx of each other's eyes. Max is unquestionably smitten with the view: Nev looks damn near wrecked after the kiss, and he knows it. He owes him a million-and-one kisses; he'll give them all if he gets to see him make a face like that after each and every one.

"I'm crazy 'bout you," Nev confesses, a dazzling smile encompassing just his entire being, "jus' so you know."

Max is buzzing on the inside. Yes, he deserves this.

"And I'm just plain crazy."

 

the thing is, we think we have time.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> i can poke fun at cappys cause i'm a cappy lol. i may add on to this, exploring their new relationship and what not. we'll see. also forgive any mistakes imma one-man-band.
> 
> got the saying from a friend who didn't get to say goodbye to a loved one who passed, and it resonates with me. confess your love before it's too late! <3 
> 
> thanks to everyone who's read/gave kudos/commented on this series! i truly appreciate you! i hope to see you again. <3
> 
> come talk to me on [tumblr](http://beepink.tumblr.com/ask)!


End file.
